


The Tony Stark Guide to Accidentally Meeting an Angel

by FelicityGS



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels, M/M, SO MUCH HAND WAVEY SCIENCE, angel au, bad ass angel aw yeah none of that fluffy shit here, but still, fucking hand waved, hand wavey science, i mean i know a bit about the light spectrum, thor is blessedly sweet and intelligent, tony stark is incapable of not getting himself into more trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:16:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicityGS/pseuds/FelicityGS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's being followed. He's sure of it. Pepper doesn't believe him, of course, but that doesn't make it less true, especially not when he <em>definitely</em> wasn't the one to move that coffee. Or refill it. Or do anything to it. </p>
<p>Unfortunately, what's following him isn't so much a fan of being found.</p>
<p>(Okay, so Tony might have made an impression.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tony Stark Guide to Accidentally Meeting an Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blank_ghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blank_ghost/gifts).



> This is for the ao3 auction, and my prompt was basically anything Tony/Thor.
> 
> Now, I've never done Tony/Thor, and I was immediately pretty interested. It seemed like a great puzzle to wrap my brain around. I had several ideas, but this one--with Thor as an urban residing angel and Tony as, well, Tony--is the one that finally sparked and here we are~~
> 
> Thanks again to blank-ghost for the chance to write this--it's been a total pleasure. I hope anyone else who reads this enjoys as well! :)
> 
> warning for some mostly based in reality hand-wavey science. so hand-wavey. roll with it

Tony is absolutely certain he is being followed, which, really, that’s not anything that upsets him even on his worst days. Tony is used to being followed (he’s famous, of course he’s being followed), and he’s used to ignoring the press of eyes upon him no matter where he goes, because even if he wears his best disguise everyone knows who Tony Stark is.

He walks into his office—Pepper’s office, really, Pepper’s CEO now isn’t she? and everyone is better for it—and he’s alone but the sensation doesn’t leave.

(It’s the press of hundreds of eyes, all for him, crawling along his skin, and it’s not the hungry stare of fans or the disdain of those who envy him, this is-is— _is_. That’s it. It is.)

He spins around, but no one’s there.

No one at all.

(It’s like electric-static-shock all over his body, but there’s _no one there_.)

XXXXXX

New York is loud and New York is big and New York is _convenient_.

Tony loves convenience, Thor finds. Tony loves things that are in New York for the simple sake that they are _in_ New York and he does not need to leave, able to command whatever he needs in a city that caters to every whim.

Thor pauses to stare up at the glare and gleam of Stark Tower as Tony lands high above, blue sign like a halo if he tilts his head just so, and he smiles a bit before he follows, passing unseen, wings tucked tight and every step trailing static along the floor.

Later, someone will pass through his trail and yelp, sucking their fingers at the surprise jolt before laughing it off.

XXXXXX

“Tony, when is the last time you slept?” Pepper asks, and Tony almost starts to tell her that doesn’t matter, hello, someone has been _stalking_ him for days now, when he stops. He can’t actually remember.

The sensation of eyes and presence that fills every space when he is alone (more like _everywhere_ , just ignorable when he is surrounded by others) hasn’t stopped, it’s been there, and it’s too much for him to sleep.

“Exactly. Look, I’ll have Happy look into it, will that make you feel better?” Pepper smiles at him.

“That’s great. Yeah.”

But Tony isn’t convinced that he’s just under-slept and paranoid.

(This feeling, it’s been here for too long; it had to have started when he was rested. Right?)

XXXXXX

Thor likes New York because he enjoys people, and he enjoys buildings, and he enjoys the rumble of the subway beneath his feet—rumble that is _almost_ like the tremble and glory of traveling through clouds shaken by thunder, flashes of lightning scorching the air. Cities like New York are a promise, beautiful, that for all their faults, mankind remembers a little of the divine: too large to see at once, loud, fire and light and glory, bursting at the seams with _life_.

Thor does not choose where he goes, or who he guards. He goes where he is needed, and he guards whom he needs. Once he is done, he follows shatter of light and rainbow to where he is needed next.

Tony Stark needs him. Thor does not know why, and he does not question it. This is his Calling. He is a Cherub, and the Cherubim have Guarded since Adam and Eve first left the Garden.

XXXXXX

(He’s _not_ crazy. He isn’t. He’s being followed.)

He reaches for his coffee around three in the morning and freezes. He notices several things at once—the coffee is approximately three point five centimeters to the left of where he always sets it, it is warm (not cold), he hasn’t gotten up to refill it _or_ rewarm it, and he definitely had drank more of it than that.

“Jarvis, bring up the video feed of the lab.”

Tony does not drink the coffee. What he does is spend the several hours examining the security footage. He has Jarvis look at it. No one comes in; no one goes out. He pulls up readings for every possible thing he measures (which, okay, fair enough, he doesn’t really examine much, he doesn’t _need to_ , for fuck’s sake it’s his _lab_ , his readings are for security and making no one gets to his things not-not- _not_ _detecting invisible coffee people_.)

There is not one moment the coffee moves. Some point, impossible to actually measure, in the space between 1:17 and 1:18, his coffee refilled, reheated, and moved, and even with the security footage, even with Jarvis' picosecond precision, it is impossible to see it happen. It doesn’t even go invisible. It simply _is_.

Tony decides he might very well be going mad and need some sleep, even if this is clear and irrefutable proof something weird is happening—because _he_ sure as hell didn’t move his coffee.

XXXXXX

Despite whatever events have changed Tony and led him to become Iron Man, he is still wildly and recklessly arrogant. Thor does not judge—foremost, it is not his place, but also he once was this way, fortunate he found his way back—though he does take a great deal of amusement in it.

Tony excels at neglecting himself as well. The incident with the coffee was, perhaps, a mistake. Loki always did say he had a poor eye for detail, and detail is most required when adjusting the dimensions mankind interacts with.

More concerning: a dark tug, like a thread twined around his heart, that suggests why he is here. A strange and silvery insect-like mechanical beast he finds trying to slip into the lab that breaks apart and disintegrates when he catches it.

Most man-made electronics do, but that does not mean his instinct is wrong.

XXXXXX

Tony starts with the electromagnetic spectrum. After all, body heat emits infrared light, and while he'd _hope_ someone who figured out invisibility would cover all their bases, people have done stupider.

(For his peace of mind, he's actually hoping they didn't think of the rest of the spectrum, otherwise he's going to look stark raving mad when he starts shouting at empty rooms to _stop staring_.)

The coffee thing keeps happening. Definitely.

(Like Tony _wasn’t_ going to keep paying attention; whatever is going on, it’s more subtle now and it’s just coffee levels that are off. Not good.)

And there are other things—he wakes sometimes to what feels like the brush of feather against his cheek, catches shadows that bend wrong considering the direction of the light, shocks himself with alloys that can’t even carry a charge. He passes through rooms and sometimes, _sometimes_ , it feels like he’s passed through storms, air thick and heavy in his lungs, hair on end.

It doesn’t make sense, and Tony does not allow the inexplicable to _stay_ inexplicable when it decides it wants to refill his coffee at three in the morning.

(It’s not because he’s scared, because it means there’s something bigger and greater that he has no comprehension of, that he has no way to protect those he loves from. Tony Stark does not _do_ scared, thanks. He just needs to _know_.)

(If he knows he can quantify, trap, and, if necessary, _hurt_.)

"Gotcha," Tony mutters late one night, examining the readings on his tablet (just in case the invisible coffee ninja is paying attention.)

The better question is _what_ he's got. Everything is hazy at the edges, static and white noise, and very likely a sun burn waiting to happen considering the bloom of ultra violet.

XXXXXX

Guarding Tony is, at the least, never dull. The man is always and ever at work or at play or sometimes both. He crafts with his hands as often as he destroys.

(Better than the some people Thor has Guarded, who do little but watch television and stay inside, not even bothering to create. Tony is _interesting_.)

Thor understands that Tony is an engineer, that unique confluence of human sciences and creation, inventing and refining as easily as he breathes. Thor himself has never been one to create—that was always Loki—but he can appreciate the skill inherent in what Tony does.

At present, Tony has a new project. Thor watches him, refills his coffee (more carefully), and keeps watch for more of the strange metal devices. He finds several, and begins to have something of a collection of the remnants that do not vanish when he destroys them.

He has little interest in what Tony works on. He is fond of it because he is fond of the cleverness humans have, but he has no need to know. When it is done, he will see what it does; he does not care for the making or puzzling what the construction will do before it is complete. (That, too, was always Loki.)

This, Thor discovers, is a mistake.

XXXXXX

“Oh my _fucking_ —”

The air _shatters_ , twisting and writhing and there are colours that he can’t register, forms and shapes that fill space, wet and heat and blazing flash of lightning that arcs, chained, into the shape of an eagle-a lion-a _great four-winged beast that shall split the world in twain_ —

Everything goes black-silent.

XXXXXX

Thor _thunders-roars-bellows_ , primal instinct and drive twisted together, brought to the physical, shape designating function— _defend, guard, **protect**_.

Much later, he collapses, halo and glory dimmed in his exhaustion. Blue eyes electric focus on the curled up and collapsed form on the floor and rage tinges the edge of his vision.

To _presume_ so—

To _dare_ —

He shakes his head to the side, the toss of a lion’s mane, and grasps, forcing his form into something more _human_ , that will not shatter the minds of those who look.

_Guard_ he tells himself. _Protect_.

Even fools.

XXXXXX

When he wakes up, there are bright blue eyes staring at him, blue-white of electricity, of plasma cutting into metal, framed in blond hair that might be made of fibrous gold, tarnished at the edges.

Tony takes it as a good sign he can see. He tries to remember what he saw before collapsing (blue-white, light, energy, four, teeth and claws and—) before stopping, feeling nauseous, closing his eyes.

“Fuck.”

“Verily,” blond and blue says, promise of anger and retribution in every syllable.

He feels like he can’t think, or process. There’s dampness sliding down the side of his head, his nose; when he touches it, it comes away red. Equally not good.

“Jarvis—”

Resounding silence.

He forces himself up, and realizes the lab (once state-of-the-art, once perfect, once _home_ ) is _wrecked_. It looks like the center of a lightning strike, where a tornado touched down and tried to tear its way through the earth. The glass melted or shattered, monitors so much ash, metal twisted and remaining furniture thrown to the sides of the room.

Also not good. That’s going to take _ages_ (at least four days in his time, meaning much longer for actual repair crews and _fuck_ ) to fix.

Tony looks at blond and blue and decides it might be a great idea to _get away_.

Blond and blue doesn’t follow. He stays crouched, stays glaring at him (seriously, _he_ was stalking _Tony_ , he has _no right_ to be that upset), looking like some sort of god, tan skin over muscles he probably doesn't even have to try for.

(He might not. He _was_ invisible.)

He’s got wings, Tony realizes. Four of them, one set closely folded, the other half-spread for balance, deep red-brown and streaked with gold.

“So you’re my crazy stalker,” Tony says, trying to start a conversation (mind racing, remembering brush of feathers against his face, static raising hair on his arm, air laden as a storm). “That’s great. You can leave now.”

Blond and blue’s glare deepens—and holy mother of, he’s _naked_ , why is he naked, was he just roaming around Tony’s tower without any clothes on, stalking him invisible and _naked_ why, now that’s just—

“As much as I would enjoy leaving you for your folly,” blond and blue says, “I cannot.”

“Can’t or won’t? What’s stopping you.”

“You.”

“No way. Nope. I have lawyers. Pepper has the best lawyers possible on speed dial, so _get out_.” Tony is actually out-right glaring at this point. This is not what he signed up for. And where the hell is security, surely the kind of explosion that’s left his lab wrecked counts for ‘emergencies.’

“You are an idiot,” blond and blue says, annoyed, and then he stands, turning his back to Tony and beginning to examine the lab.

(Tony will admit his invisible-now-visible stalker has a _fantastic_ ass.)

The lack of attention is enough; Tony takes the time to scope out the room more thoroughly and realizes that the reason security _probably_ hasn’t shown up is there isn’t somewhere for them to _show up through_. The doors look like they’ve been smelted together, and even Tony can recognize it’s going to take some serious manpower to get through that. Another glance, and the suit that _was_ here is very much _not_ —or rather, it’s not going to be functional, if that’s all that’s left over it. He’s stuck here. He’s stuck here with his actually, definitely not-human stalker with wings.

Just what _is_ this guy?

Tony has never been afraid of asking. He hops to his feet (tries not to wince at the pain that shoots through his limbs, glancing down and realizing he’s _sun burned_ , hot and red and angry), walks over to blond and blue, and asks,

"So just what are you?"

Blond and blue looks at him for a very long time, considering. Tony doesn’t shift on his feet or move away, just stares right back (and definitely not down _jesus_ Tony’s not a fan of the big and sculpted types but he can make one hell of an exception).

“Thor,” blond and blue finally says, the syllable unfamiliar and strained (Tony has no idea how a name sounds strained to bursting, but it does).

“Great. Thor. Fantastic.” He goes to pat Thor on one arm, and Thor snags his hand.

“Do not touch me,” Thor says, growling threat of a too big cat

( _lion_ , Tony remembers, _lion and eagle and_ —)

in his voice.

“No touchy. Got it.”

(At least not until they’re out.)

“Well, Pointbreak, can you get the door?” Tony yanks a thumb at said fused together door. The guy wrecked this lab, surely he can get the door open.

Thor studies it, then Tony again.

Thor, as it turns out, can. One-handed.

Just what the hell has Tony gotten himself into?

XXXXXX

Something Tony has done has made it difficult to become _more_ than what humans can perceive. It is frustrating, though he tries it endlessly, and it does little to curb Thor’s temper.

_Humans_ , he thinks, and he understands a little of Loki’s dislike for them.

Thor does not let himself linger on the thought. He instead finds other ways to keep with what he is doing. He spends more time actively patrolling for the strange insects. He hides his wings. He makes it clear that he is not leaving—with heavy emphasis on having nowhere else to go.

(He is not above using these humans’ compassion against them.)

Pepper, whom Thor has a healthy respect for after seeing how often she handles Tony, eventually caves. He is supplied with the appropriate attire and has the great pleasure of watching Pepper explain to Tony that Thor is now his body guard.

(Body guard: a human equivalent to what Thor does. Less effective, and not available regardless of means, but the term will suit to explain when people question.)

“Pepper, you can’t—”

“I can and I will! If you’re going to try and blow up your lab and trap yourself inside, then at the very least I can make sure you’re with someone who can get you back out!”

(The incident in the lab did not go over well with Pepper.)

Tony, on the other hand, is more difficult to deal with—he is changeable, moody, and a nightmare in the flesh (as the case may be). Thor misses being unseen, putting up with Tony's constant sarcasm and touch geared to make Thor lose his temper.

(His anger, he stores. Another time. Another time. He will unleash it on the plains in thunderstorm, he will scream it as he dives into the sea, he will _not_ lose his temper here, at the one he is meant to Guard, no matter how _foolish_ that human is.)

He finds another of the silvery bugs as it begins to crawl from the lab and crushes it in one fist, blue-white lightning arcing from his touch.

XXXXXX

Tony does not approve of the interruption on his life Thor creates.

He’s just so goddamned _big_.

Tony is aware how to take up space with presence. He's has long since mastered the art of being a showman and he knows how to push back when someone tries to upstage him. (After all, most people are projecting just as much as him.)

Thor doesn’t.

Thor is simply...

Thor _is_.

He’s huge and electric, an aura that Tony has to navigate the entire way around. He’s got everyone on his side—once Thor stopped growling and snapping and reigned his temper in, he proved affable, charming, bright, and a smile straight out of Heart-Melters magazine (Tony is not sure that’s a magazine, but that doesn’t change his point). Even Pepper ignores Tony’s comments that Thor _nearly killed him_ , or how Thor was stalking him, which is seriously not fair.

(That Thor listens with a certain solemn concentration that suggests to the speaker is the _only person in the whole wide world_ probably has something to do with that. And the promises. And the stunning lack of knowledge on pop culture. And how easily he allows others to take care of things for him and then thanks them like they have performed a miracle on his behalf. And his smiles.)

Tony isn’t jealous.

It’s not like _he’s_ the one who found Thor or anything.

XXXXXX

The metal insects and what controls them are not the only thing that Thor needs to guard Tony against, only the main thing, what causes his heart to twist and sets his every nerve on edge. One threat does not void all others.

Tony insists on ‘fighting crime.’

It is admirable, that Tony wishes to help his fellow man in such a way, though it reeks of self-sacrifice and repentance. Indeed, Thor would be quite glad of the activity, but he is restricted to only what can be seen—and thus must keep his form contained closer to human or beast, to avoid driving Tony mad (for Tony is no saint to look upon one of the Host in full glory).

He supposes he should have paid more attention to what Tony did to draw him onto this plane.

The fighting is not all bad—few comment on the presence of yet another eagle in the sky, though the form makes Thor itch a thousand times worse, feeling as if he will split his seams in just a moment, an act of balance and control he rarely needs perform in day-to-day life.

(None of these are the Moment, none of these are why he is Guarding; he does not let himself fret overmuch, only watches and itches and tries not to ruin the shape he is in. Occasionally, he adds another of the metal insects that _are_ a threat to his collection, snagging them out of the sky when he notices them.)

They have just returned from one such venture; Tony’s robots take care to remove his armor.

Thor hears and sees it only distantly, focused far more on himself.

He thinks—

_Two two two not four two small and delicate and golden and two_

—until he topples against the balcony.

His form tears, glorious breath of air, arc and laughter of electricity as all of him spreads out and into the grander space, power crashing into the edges of the human-shape he has maintained until it, too, tears—only a little, only at the edges, seams pulsing with _protect-defend-glory_ , wings unfurled (one-two-three-four, _four_ , the _right_ number), and static crackling across feathers as he stretches them, promise of thunder in their every beat as he settles, settles, and draws himself in and together.

Above, the clouds swirl, dark and foreboding, promise of a storm, and he smiles at it with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Don’t worry about the light show, it’s not like people are constantly watching the tower or anything. _Oh wait_.”

Thor turns—Tony has joined him on this level of the balcony.

“My apologies,” Thor says instead of pointing out that Tony is often quite fond of creating a spectacle, if his lazy loops across New York in the suit are any measure to go by.

Thor would expect Tony to have left and raced for a drink, or perhaps to his lab; it is already unusual that the man has come to look at Thor after his change, let alone speak.

“You’re seriously uncomfortable the way you are now, aren’t you?” Tony asks.

Thor pauses, brow furrowing slightly. This is yet a kindness and consideration Thor has only ever witnessed Tony offering Pepper and he is unsure what to make of it.

(Humans are odd and fickle creatures.)

“It is,” Thor says. “Not unlike attempting to fit into a much smaller space.”

“Just what _are_ you?”

Another surprise, that the man has waited this long to repeat his question. It is less an issue in knowing the answer and more of whether he _should_ say. It is obvious that Thor is not human; even an actual idiot would be able to tell as much.

In the end, Thor tells the truth, because he prefers honesty and also because he has realized that Tony is far more agitated by not-knowing than a truth he finds difficult to believe.

“I am an angel.”

(The truth; no need to specify his Sphere—humans tend to make jest and find it difficult to believe he is a Cherub these days. Thor is not the only one who rues and is amused by the era that popularized the image of small winged babes.)

Tony’s eye brown shoots up, mouth tightening and gaze skeptical.

“And you’ve just been hovering around keeping me safe my whole life? You don’t seem to do a good job of it, I got hit twelve times out there.”

“You were in no danger,” Thor points out.

Tony’s lips twitch, though he does manage to suppress his smile.

“Not your whole life,” Thor explains. “Just for now. Eventually, you will not need me any longer, and I will go.” He pauses. “The matter of being unseen by mortal eyes again will need to be… _attended_ to before then.”

Thor does not make it sound a suggestion.

“Already looking into it,” Tony says, smacking his shoulder with the back of one hand before turning to go inside.

It is what Thor hoped to hear. Tony is clever, and surely will be able to sort out how to change it. He tucks his wings more neatly behind himself and follows.

XXXXXX

“An _angel_ ,” Tony nearly explodes when he is alone in the lab, Thor having begged off for a few moments. Tony is starting to think Thor is like a magpie, collecting bits of what looks like metal and electronics (Tony is _nearly_ irritated enough that he hopes they’re stolen from his lab, so he could try to use that to add to his dwindling list of reasons to kick Thor out). “An _angel_ , Jarvis, he’s claiming to be a--”

“I did, in fact, hear, sir,” Jarvis interrupts smoothly. “Which of the apocrypha would you like to start with?”

“Who said I was going to see if he’s telling the truth?” Tony asks, crossing his arms a little sulkily as he leans against a work table.

"Or perhaps Judaic lore?" Jarvis asks like Tony hasn't said anything.

"Angels aren't real! He's just a mutant or-or-or I don't know! But not an angel! I'm an atheist, I can't have some _guardian angel_ hovering around when they _don't exist!_ "

"Very good, sir. By relevance, I assume?"

Tony throws his hands up and leaves, because not even the lab is safe to vent about Thor and his-his-his _being_.

An hour later, he settles down and starts reading what Jarvis has diligently complied.

_If_ Tony _theoretically_ allows for Thor being an angel ( _if-if-if_ ), it explains some things that don’t line up with current knowledge on mutant physiology, planes of being, and more _weird shit_ than Tony feels entirely comfortable dealing with at any given time (which is saying something, because ever since Afghanistan, his life is nothing but one _weird_ thing after another).

So _, theoretically_ , the reason Thor is visible now is because Tony has managed to _somehow_ (this is the tricky part, reverse engineering it) pin Thor to the visible.

(That’s actually what he did—Thor operates on planes of being that humanity can’t perceive (or measure, in some cases)), and Tony got really lucky that the angel (angel, what is Tony’s life, and he’s only using the word because _there isn’t a better one_ ) is really fond of the electromagnetic spectrum—especially ultraviolet -a and -b, situated closest to visible light. Not a surprise, considering that Thor is so obviously fond of electricity and storms, and Tony catches himself wondering if that’s a uniquely Thor trait, or if all angels (seriously not a better word) are like that.)

What he’s not expecting is the sense of… security this gives him. Sure, maybe Thor isn’t an actually an angel in the religious sense (despite everything suggesting otherwise, his existence doesn’t actually prove the whole _God_ thing), but Tony's got an _angel_ on his side (not just the winged mutant variety). An actual ‘thus did the angel Thor smite his foes verily’ angel (though Tony has not seen any real smiting beyond his lab, which was so smote that he still gets a bit nervous when he remembers the aftermath).

(The security is not because Tony _likes_ Thor--likes having him around, likes the way he’s almost a universal truth: Pepper is a saint, New York does not sleep, Jarvis will always have a bit of sass. Thor simply _is_ , and Tony likes that, just like he likes the faint jolt that stings his hand whenever he touches Thor.)

XXXXXX

Thor is not entirely sure why Tony suddenly begins to treat him with what approaches respect. He is well aware Tony does not Believe (an occasional irritant and no more). From any other, Thor would not call it such, of course, but he has adjusted as well as he can to Tony’s particular personality, and this feels a bit of respect. Tony does not protest Thor’s insistences that he eat when he forgets, does not object when Thor enters the lab, and on the whole his sarcasm seems more aimed at gentle ribbing than intent to wound.

It is odd, but despite Guarding humans, Thor will never claim to actually understand them. He simply takes Tony’s change in demeanor in stride—it certainly makes his work easier.

Even if the human will not cease _touching_ , little jolts of solidity that Thor does not expect.

Like now, one hand almost possessively on Thor’s hip as Tony leans to examine a newly caught--and mostly intact--metal creature. Thor perhaps should have brought one to Tony sooner, but the thought had made him uneasy, a tug as sharp as when he saw the first. Thor would not even have let the engineer see this one, but for Tony having noticed it and insisting on catching it himself.

(Thor does not reach out to destroy it; already he can see how Tony’s mind has caught upon it, and knows that a few more moments and it will be spread upon the table to its finest parts.)

“Huh,” Tony says, one-handedly peeling back part of the ruined casing. “What the hell is Doom trying to do in my lab?”

“Doom?” Thor inquires.

Tony lets go of his hip, waving his hand, already reaching for the tools he will need to tear open the bug.

“How does it work?” Thor asks instead, stretching his wings briefly to resettle himself.

Tony glances up at him, then smiles, honey amber eyes delighted, crow’s prints crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“No idea,” Tony says, cheerful, “but we’re going to find out.”

XXXXXX

Thor is apparently a pretty great leaner.

(Tony is getting vibes that Thor would much rather _destroy_ the surveillance tech than _look_ at it, but despite that, he’s at least acting interested, nodding, and Tony _absolutely_ doesn’t enjoy the shiver-static in the air when Thor resettles his wings.)

“Ah, here we go,” Tony mutters, carefully lifting out what was very likely some sort of power core. He’s not sure what it ran on--he’s yet to really get to tear open one of Doom’s bots while its mostly intact--but he’s sure as hell going to find out. “This right here is what powered the whole thing.”

Thor sniffs.

“Not electricity,” he mutters, still sour that Tony won’t let him destroy it. Tony’s seen what Thor does to electronics, he’s lucky Tony hasn’t shooed him to the far side of the lab.

“Has to be, tech runs on the stuff,” Tony says, turning it over in the light.

Thor practically bristles, puts Tony in mind of fluffed up and agitated eagles--hilarious except for the bit where they can still rake his eyes out.

“In any case,” Tony says, setting the core aside and digging in, “we should have... yes, that’s right, who's a genius?”

It’s not _built_ the same way a traditional stick of memory is--of course not, Tony knows exactly why--but it’s still unrecognizably what the hardware in his hands was designed for. (Always good to know that for all the oddities that Doom’s tech has, there are some things that don’t change.)

“This,” he tells Thor, “is memory--random access, unless I miss my bet; there will be a solid state we’ll be able to use to figure out what’s stored long term. Might take some work to get anything off, I haven’t had a chance to really get my hands dirty with them.” This is like Christmas come early.

“Random access?”

“If it loses power, that’s it--whatever this was storing,” he waves the (beautiful, Doom has style, hyperbolic, why didn’t _Tony_ think of that?) twisted and tiny bud of RAM at Thor. “Whatever this was storing, gone, poof, not there anymore.”

“Not unlike yourself then?”

“What do you mean like me?” he asks, hoping for some hokey computers are like brains hippy nonsense he can laugh at.

Thor is not looking at Tony, instead plucking the RAM from Tony’s hands and turning it over as he examines it. He taps the center of his chest, where the arc reactor would be if Thor were the one with it instead.

“It’s overwritten your… rhythms,” Thor says. “Random access—you said that it loses all that it stores when it has no current running through it. If that is so, then memories that make up its soul vanish to ether when turned off.” Thor hums, smiling as he touches a bit of the exposed circuitry; flickers of light race across the intricate surface before stuttering out as he withdraws his hand. “If the charge you’ve placed in your chest vanishes, you will die before your body can supply the necessary charge again.” He frowns, as if trying to calculate something. “Before the metal in you would have chance to kill you, I think.”

Tony stares at Thor.

“How do you know that?” Tony demands.

(He’s not scared out of his mind. The chill spreading through his stomach and chest is _anger_ , he has cold anger, that’s it, it’s nothing frightened at all.)

Thor looks at him, blinking in surprise.

“Is it not obvious?”

Tony keeps staring, hands shaking.

_Obvious_?

Obvious, when he gets question after question from reporters whether the arc reactor does something else at all? Obvious, when everything Thor has just said Tony’s only told a handful of people, and most of those are dead?

“I have upset you,” Thor says, blinking. “My apologies. I was not aware—”

“ _How do you know?_ ” Tony demands again, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him down to eye level. (Is allowed to yank him down to eye level, he can tell already: Thor’s hands out, palms up, as if trying to calm a spooked animal, electric-white blue eyes—electrical, not human—)

“I can hear it. Sense it. It is as written in your flesh and being as surely as your intelligence, Tony Stark; one only has but to listen and look.”

Tony suspects that Thor thinks that’s all calming and _great_ , being able to know this about someone by-by- by _listening_.

“Again, my apologies,” Thor says. “I forgot, hearing you speak with such… understanding,” right, Tony believes that, Thor says understanding the way Tony tells kids they understand physics for publicity, “on the subject that humans cannot perceive as I do. You are a very clever creation.”

Tony does not punch Thor in the face, though he thinks about it.

Tony does not shove him.

Tony would like it to be known that it is an exceptional act of grace and good will that has him let go of Thor, take a step back, and breathe. Pepper would be proud, if Tony ever told her about this moment.

(The implications that there are beings invisible and as powerful as Thor that can simply _sense_ Tony’s weaknesses are far-reaching, horrifying in every sense of the word, and Tony does not want to think about any of them right this moment.)

Light from outside reflects in his eyes, and his gaze flicks past Thor (nothing, just a bird, probably stole a scrap of metal because Thor insists on the windows being cracked when it’s nice out).

Not much, but enough; it lets Tony shove aside Thor being paranormally sensitive—he can deal with it later—and focuses on the more interesting fact—

Thor is _smart_.

Smart in a way Tony had long since decided Thor wasn’t. Other than the hokey ‘machine death’ thing, Thor’s just demonstrated a working knowledge of biology and electricity of the sort many people don’t have, and the ability to link the two together in a language not his own (English is definitely not Thor’s mother tongue, Tony's had enough time listening to the guy to realize it, and the implications--that Thor knows a great deal, only not how to convey it--make Tony salivate at the potential knowledge just out of reach).

Tony likes smart people, in general.

(Actually smart people, not the sort that think they’re smart but make Tony roll his eyes so hard they might fall out of his head.)

Other than how terrifying this is, it’s just one more reason that Tony finds himself liking Thor. (He can’t actually think of reasons to throw Thor out, his list used to be so long-- _what happened_.)

“Don’t mention it to anyone,” Tony finally says.

“Of course not,” Thor says. “I am meant to protect you—I can hardly do so if I go trumpeting your weaknesses from the rooftops.”

Tony eyes Thor, but Thor is giving one of his _stupid_ smiles again.

“Good.” Tony looks back at the pile of innards on the workbench. “Fuck it, let’s go. Has anyone given you alcohol yet?”

XXXXXX

Thor cannot shake the feeling he has missed some critical moment in the space of Tony’s touch, the thread bound around his heart yanked tight, pressing, _threat_ of danger, dark and black and panic--

Thor shakes it off. Letting himself be overwhelmed by the _threat_ of ill will not keep Tony safe.

He does not see any more of the metal bugs, though he keeps watch.

Perhaps in hope that his presence will be enough to ward away the danger, Thor begins to wander and patrol less. Naturally, Tony takes this as reason to educate Thor further on the particulars of human computers and robotics (Thor should have realized one inquiry would lead to this), and it is intriguing enough, in its own way. Primitive, compared to what Thor intuits and knows from the early days of creation, but fascinating nevertheless, circuitry that runs like a nervous system, electrical pulses, the rapid fast flow of simplicity building into complexity--mechanical wonders that mirrors the flesh of its human creators.

(Beneath it all, Tony’s own pulse, the throb of the electromagnet, simple one-two one-two one-two, a beat that Thor knows as well as his own now.)

XXXXXX

Tony absolutely doesn’t linger on his work to help Thor out. Not one bit.

He’s _definitely_ looking forward to having Thor out of his lab, hair, and life. Definitely. There’s nothing to be disappointed about at all.

It’s not his fault he keeps running into all kinds of setbacks, or that he has projects he needs to finish for the company, and _Thor_ doesn’t know enough about his work to be able to tell that Tony might be stalling.

XXXXXX

"I'm getting close to making it so you can do your invisible thing again," Tony says one day. "I think I am, at any rate. It’s hard to tell; everything I’m finding now says what I did before shouldn’t have even _worked_. Seriously, I have no idea how I managed it.”

“That is good news inde--”

The explosion and subsequent alarms cut Thor off.

“Sir, structural integrity has been compromised. A full evacuation is already in progress," Jarvis says; Tony is already mostly in his suit. On the air there is fire and smoke, yes, and the smell of metal; Thor can feel the ache of lives lost and the wounded. There is something else though, a bitter, metallic tang in the back of his throat, and when he looks to Tony, heaviness coiled tight in his chest awakens.

"Tony," Thor calls, "do not--"

"Oh, _now_ you're going to say something, really? We went over this. _No_ ," Tony says, mask clicking into place, and smashing through one of the windows.

Thor chases after him, not bothering to become an eagle. _This_ is why he is meant to Guard Tony; he knows it as surely as he knows when a storm will come, the time the sun rises, the particular pulse and rhythm of electricity. Whatever has attacked this tower (silver, he thinks, silver and mechanical), attacked _Tony_ \--Thor _must_ keep him safe..

Tony's form is a red gold gleam above--his first priority will be Pepper's safety. Thor defies the tug pulling him towards Tony only long enough to hover by the side of the building. A little focus, following the lines of metal already trying to twist apart at even its most base of levels, and he _shoves_ with an exhale. Vaguely, he registers the shriek of metal retaking form, the smell of it, then lets go.

It is not much, but it will need make do.

Tony is already inside once more, and Thor growls under his breath. He should not have taken the time to stop, but if he can yet do anything to reduce how many die today, he will. A flap of his wings, followed moments later by the air cracking apart into sound, and he shoots up.

He can hear the vibrations of fighting already, and follows it to where Tony is arrayed against someone else, silver armor and a green cloak--the match to the mechanical insects Thor has been stopping.

"Get her _out_!" Tony snarls as soon as Thor arrives.

Pepper--hiding, unharmed but for a cut by her head. Thor keeps part of his attention to Tony and his battle, but the dark thread pulling behind his heart has not tugged more sharply. Not this moment. Not yet. Not yet--but _soon_.

"Ms. Potts," Thor says, offering a grim smile and his hand.

"Thor," she says, then stops, equal measures of awe and terror in her eyes.  Belatedly, he realizes that his glory and halo both have begun to leak, tearing at his more human form--from before, with the building. He did not consider. Pepper stares at him with wide eyes, but she takes his hand despite her obvious fear.

"Be not afraid, Ms. Potts," Thor assures her. "I will send you somewhere safe--please, ensure that your public services come here soon. I have done what I can to delay the building's collapse, but there are yet injured."

"You're--"

"Yes." Thor presses a kiss to her her hand, then focuses, sending her away.

(A church, several blocks away, a _good_ church, true--run down but well-loved, filled the brim with faith. She will be safe there.)

He hears a crack and all of him goes _cold_ , twisted up and pulled, _dark_ and panic and _falling_ , spins around and sees-hears- _feels_ :

Tony, falling, chest plate shattered

XXXXXX

_Fuck_

The display gone dark, he can't see, and everything in him aches

_if the charge you've placed in your chest vanishes_

He can't breathe

_fuck_

Something slams into him, something _heat_ and _electric_ , and it is _hum-sing-roar_ , glory and blaze and _storm_ , pulse and pulse and pulse again, throbs with sweet familiar buzz of the reactor only it _isn't_ , it _can't_ be, his every hair is on end, he's awake, live-wire, exposed, energy coursing through every millimeter of the suit, through _him_ , displays and readings powering back on, and in his ear he hears Jarvis

" _\--sir_ , the--Mr. Stark, you are alive, thank _goodness_ \--"

and in his heart, twisting and coiling, tempest and rainstorm, he hears

_I have you, Tony._

Tony takes a gasping breath, looking up to where Doom is staring down, arc reactor still crushed in his fist, and he grins despite how tight his skin feels now, riding high on adrenaline.

(If he stops to think about this, he's going to panic, he can feel it already, and even as it tries to surge up his throat, he hears _steady_ and the soothing brush of feathers across his tender skin. Thor's probably left him sunburnt again, the asshole; the power readings in the corner ripple laughter.)

(Better question--how did Doom _know?_ Thor’s collection of scrap parts means Thor’s never let one of the bots get loose, the one Tony was tearing apart and cataloguing was _definitely_ off, which leaves--

_gleam of silver catching and hitting his eyes_

\--not a bird then. Damn it. And Thor had been distracted by _Tony_ , explaining how-- _explaining_. At least that answers that.)

"Right, Jarvis. Good to hear you again."

"And you, sir. You are currently at one hundred fifty percent power and rising."

"Excellent. We've picked up a rider," and the charge twisted around his heart pulses _joy_ , "let's make use of this before he shorts out the suit."

"Very good."

The blast from the repulsor nearly makes him topple end over end; it certainly pushes him back a few feet, unsteady, and he can almost hear the _my apologies, Tony_ Thor would mutter if he was more than energy twisted up in Tony's suit.

Okay. He can admit this is pretty fucking cool.

Before, fighting Doom was edged in desperation, Doom stronger than him just enough to keep him from focusing on anything else, but this is--

he dodges a blast he didn't notice, and fires one back, compensating for the recoil like a thunder strike

\--this is something else, someone else, a guiding hand and more power than he knows what to do with. It's heady and drunk, riding lightning as it charges through the sky.

Doom flees, and Tony _nearly_ follows.

(he wants to, wants to make him pay for this, for frightening Pepper, for the lives lost, the others injured, wants to--)

"Sir, the relief efforts could use your assistance" and the suit itself _tugging_ him to return the tower bring him back enough.

Doom later.

The fire and police departments are already at work; Tony has Jarvis get him on their line, asking what they need, what he can do to help. This part, the cleanup, it's their show.

When Tony flies near the building, it seems to _hum_ , buzzing with the particular waves that he associates with Thor from looking over hundreds of readings and results. (He wonders, in the back of his mind, what Thor did to it, and in response he gets a twisting burst of images, pathways running and bifurcating like lightning, too fast to comprehend fully, only enough to be impressed and a little awed.) For a quick job, he suspects it will hold up more than long enough for them to tear it down before it collapses.

Briefly, he wonders what would have happened if Thor _hadn't_ stopped for patch repairs, gotten to him and Pepper just that little bit sooner, soon enough that Doom wouldn't have managed to get to the arc reactor, but then he shoves the thought away.

It doesn't matter. He's still alive, there are fewer people dead than there could have been, and Pepper is--where _is_ Pepper?

An image--a church. A ratty run-down church, but for all that, all Tony sees is iridescent glow and pulse seeped deep into the foundation, _safe_.

Huh.

Pepper is already rushing out as Tony lands; Tony gets his helmet off, but doesn't bother to release the suit, not entirely sure how that's going to work, or what Thor is doing to keep him going.

"Tony! Tony, are you hurt, your chest, what happened, Thor just--"

“It’s okay, I’m okay. Thor got it.”

“But your chest--where is Thor?”

Tony taps next to the blue-white light filling the hole in his chest.

Pepper stares, swallowing, eyes darting back up to his after a moment.

"I think he's there, anyway," Tony admits. "I'm not actually sure, he might actually be spread out a bit more than that."

"How is--"

"Rescue crews are still working, but thunderbird did something to the building. Now, Pep, I know how much you love New York, but I’m going to insist we move back to Malibu for a bit."

XXXXXX

_One-two._

_One-two._

_(safe)_

XXXXXX

Tony puts in another arc reactor as soon as he can.

Nothing happens, really, other than he stops freaking out about the missing weight in his chest. It certainly doesn't mess with the stray static that still clings to the metal, and Thor doesn't reappear now that his own measures to keep Tony alive aren’t needed.

Rubbing the metal ring at the edge of the reactor a few days later, he turns around and starts so violently he can feel it in his hair.

" _Thor_ , Christ, you scared the hell out of me."

Thor grins broadly at him, like he hasn't been gone for the last week.

"Well met, Tony," Thor says cheerfully.

"Where have you _been_?"

"Here." Thor blinks at Tony, as if _of course_ he's been here, where _else_ would he possibly be.

Tony grabs a wrench off the table and starts to bounce it in his hands, squinting a little as he looks up at Thor.

“So I’m guessing that whole mess with not being able to do whatever makes you invisible is fixed?”

“Yes,” Thor practically _sighs_ , a contented smile on his features. “It is good fortune that I spent so long physical--I doubt that I would have been able to come to your aid so quickly, or known the particulars of your pulse. Your education proved most helpful as well; interacting with the circuitry of your suit was a great deal more complex than I thought it would be.”

Tony stares at him.

(There’s _no way_ Thor is implying what Tony thinks he’s implying about why Tony couldn’t figure out how he changed Thor in the first place, and why it was taking so long to undo it. None. _None_ , Thor _knows_ Tony is only calling him an angel out of lack of better vocabulary, just _no_ \--)

Thor smiles, like he is entirely aware of what Tony is thinking, and is too polite to say anything. But he still smiles that smile that makes Tony want to punch him in the face.

“So you were actually _in_ the suit? _In_ me?”

Thor’s face does a very complicated expression, probably the most complicated Tony’s ever seen it do--amused, intensely concentrated, thoughtful, and something else that Tony has no name for but is distinctly inhuman.

“Yes,” Thor finally says with a chuckle. “As far as you would understand it.”

“Kinky,” Tony says with a smirk.

(Also incredibly cool; he doesn’t mention that.)

“You barely know the meaning of the word.”

Tony pauses, turning on his heel to look at Thor, trying to decide if that’s a challenge, and then deciding, _actually_ , he probably _doesn’t_ want to know what kinky is for an angel.

“So is that it?” Tony asks instead. “Not that I’m saying you should stay. Not at all. I mean, you’re useless, you molt all the time, all over the floor of the lab--thanks for making sure DUM-E and U were okay, by the way--and you hover like you expect I’m going to just up and disappear on you.” Tony waves his hand, making a face. “More of a bother than not.”

(Except it isn’t--there’s something comforting in having an angel that embodies protection and lightning just hanging out, drinking and eating and occasionally asking questions much smarter than Tony ever remembers to give Thor credit for. He’d almost call him a friend, but then Tony doesn’t really let himself have friends (minus Rhodey, who doesn’t count), and _besides_ , it’s not like he isn’t still convinced Thor is his because Tony found him (supposedly divine intervention or no, and Tony still doesn’t believe that at all.))

Thor follows Tony’s pacing with his eyes, leaning against the table and crossing his arms. Tony can see how little Thor believes the words coming out of his mouth.

“Except that lightning thing you did, with the tower. That was pretty cool.”

Thor smiles.

“Thank you.”

Tony finally stops circling around, looking at Thor.

“ _Are_ you done here?” Tony asks, letting himself be sincere for a split second.

Thor tilts his head slightly to the side, almost bird-like.

“I cannot stay,” Thor finally says (Tony does _not_ slump a little at the words), “not for good. But I have no where else to be as yet.”

Tony shrugs, playing off the words like they don’t actually mean much, like his eyes aren’t a bit damp. Not one bit.

“I would hate terribly to leave Pepper to handle your recklessness alone.”

Tony can’t help it--he laughs.


End file.
